A Thousand Sorrows
by 39addict101
Summary: The past can never be changed, and the future is in the hands of the present.


**Hey, guys. I decided to try my hand at angst.**

 **This is what turned out, and it is obviously not good. Like, at all.**

He couldn't stand it anymore.

The pain was too much. He rode it like one rides a full out running horse, hanging on for dear life.

The clue hunt had marred him, torn him, shredded him.

He was no longer the same.

It hurt to think of happy memories, of better days.

His whole life perspective changed.

Gone were the ninja posters, and in its place were dead plants, murky gray walls, and pain.

Dan Cahill stood up from his place on his dark bed.

The sheets were torn, from nights of constant fleeing from his enemies. The pillow was stained with blood where he'd cut himself, just to get away for a few minutes.

The dark walls of his room seemed to trap him, to lock him in with the pain.

An eagle screeched outside, and Dan jumped. He watched a bright blue jay flitter by, seemingly oblivious to the boy who watched him.

The sky was blue, the perfect shade, the color that when people saw it, they said, "Let's go swimming." Or, "Let's go for a picnic."

But not Dan. Dan only saw his life, how bleak, and dark, and feudal it was.

There was no purpose to his life.

Be born, grow up, go to school, go to college, get a job, have kids, continue working to have money to survive, retire, die, and the cycle continues with your children, and your grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. What was life?

Life had no meaning to the boy with the vacant eyes.

Memories flashed before him, and he heard the screams of the Starlings, smelled Irina's burning flesh, he saw vividly the dead man lying in the snow, the blood around him bright, with Casper Wyoming staring up at them, his eyes full of hatred.

He remembered the moment he'd heard Alistair was dead. He remembered Evan's hazed eyes, and Natalie's frail body in a heap on the floor next to the machine that had caused a good portion of this trouble.

The bad memories continued: Amy standing before her dead boyfriend's tomb, Lester, and so many more he could think on painful, stinging memories for days at a time.

Dan walked towards the window, like a zombie, like one who has no mind, and looked out at the golden green fields around him, the trees waving their branches to the sky, and it hurt. A clawing, indescribable pain welled up inside him, and he opened the window.

He was out, hanging on, with only his fingertips, before he realized he didn't want to do this.

His fingers were slipping, and he was falling, falling, the ground growing closer and closer with every breath. Someone was screaming, and with a jolt, Dan realized it was him.

And then everything went black.

* * *

It was a good thing Amy came home when she did.

She saw her brother fall, and hit the ground. She heard his screams, and saw the terror in his sunken eyes.

Jumping out of the car, she ran towards her brother, while dialing 911.

The ambulance came, and picked the frail boy up.

"He's in critical condition." They told her, and Amy nodded, tears streaming down her face.

She rode in the ambulance, and held Dan's limp hand, wondering how she hadn't noticed her brother's change.

He'd seemed normal, and he'd just spent a ton of time in his room, that was all.

 _Fool!_ Amy thought. _He was hurting alone in his room, struggling, and I didn't notice anything._

"Dan." Amy said, squeezing his hand, tears streaming down his face. "Please. I'm sorry. This is my fault! I love you"

Just then, her brother squeezed her hand, and then his small white hand went limp again.

The paramedic gasped, and began checking Dan over. He performed CPR, pumping the boy's chest in vain.

Amy watched in horror, sobbing, until the men gave up. "I'm sorry," He said, "He's gone. I'm so sorry."

* * *

She cried, her tears flowing freely, lamenting for her loss.

For it was her fault, all her fault and her fault only. _Dan. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I love you._

But it was too late to go back.

The past can never be changed, and the future is in the hands of the present.

* * *

 **While I wrote this I listened to Soundless Voice and My Most Precious Treasure.**

 **The links are on Rival Argentica's profile, under The Curse of the Mirror.**

 **I love the music she listens to.**

 **That music really helped me with it.**

 **Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this, and please review and tell me what you think of this.**

 **-39addict101**


End file.
